Crash and Burn
by Misfit Outlaw
Summary: After the loss of his wife and his own life and man comes back from the dead for revenge....Please give reviews!


Disclaimer: "The Crow" is property of James O'Barr, but the characters Crash, Puppet, Creeper, Misery, Sandman, Kyra and Robbie are mine, don't use without my permission!  
  
  
  
The Crow  
Crash and Burn  
  
  
There it is, the crow thinks to herself, as she swoops down from a night sky as black as her carrion wings. Below, a cemetary studded with small head stones and statues is calling to her. The crow lands on one particular tombstone reading:  
  
"IN LOVING MEMORY OF  
STEVEN HETFEILD  
1973-2000"  
  
She begins pecking furiously at the top of the stone until a small chip of damp granite shatters away from it's home. All of a sudden, the crack begins leaking a thick, crimson liquid. Blood is filling in ever letter, one at a time. They are all filled now and the sticky, red crow's blood is inching it's way slowly to the soil. THUMP! A sick cracking sound of dead wood and the dirt begins to rise and fall away.  
Deathly white hands are emerging from the ground, followed by the shape of a man in a cheap suit cut down the back.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living," the crow caws to the stumbling man in the black suit.  
  
"What the fuck is happening to me," the man moans, "How did I get here?"  
  
"You have been chosen to avenge your death under the dark wing of the crow, Steven," the bird replies.  
  
"My name is Crash. Wait, why I am I talking to a bird? What do you mean avenge my death? Where's Kyra?! Answer me," Crash screams at the small black bird at his feet.  
  
"Well, Steven, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but both you and Kyra are.... Deceased."  
  
"Deceased? You mean I'm dead? No, no, no, no, NO! This is not happening. You are are nothing but a figment of my imagination," Crash reassures himself.  
  
"Think hard, Steven, try to remember......"  
  
  
Flashback: Crash is sitting with his wife, Kyra, on a couch in a small arpartment. Suddenly, theres a knock at the door. Crash stands to answer it, when harder much more louder pounds begin. He is about to turn the knob when the door splinters open, knocking Crash to the floor. Kyra is screaming as a woman and three men enter the tiny loft.  
  
"Creeper, string him up! Nobody comes on our turf without our permission."  
  
"What do we do with her, Sandman? She won't shut her fuckin' mouth!"  
  
"You know what to do."  
  
  
The vision ends and Crash is on his hands and knees screaming from the painful headache that the flashback brought on.  
"So this is all real. I'm dead and so is Ky," Crash chokes out.  
  
"That is correct, Mr. Hetfeild. You are on mission to avenge your deathand Kyra's."  
  
"And how am I supposed to do that," Crash asks the bird.  
  
"I, unfortunatly only know of a man who you will have to persuade into giving you information." the black bird says.  
  
"Your not much help, are you," Crash asks, mockingly.  
  
"I'm alot more help to you than you think," the crow replies  
  
Crash looks up to the dark, cloudy night sky trying to gather his thoughts and feelings.  
"Okay. But I've got to make a stop first."  
  
The apartment Crash is standing in instantly brings back painful memories of love, hope, a noose around his neck, and his true love being raped and strangled to death. He pushes past the pain and a barrage yellow police tape, to a small closet hidden by a couch that the cops must have moved.  
  
"Here we go," Crash mutters to himself as he places both hands on the arm of the oversized and heavy sofa. He pushes it once weakly and the three seater flies across the room into a wall and shatters into a pile of broken wood and torn cushions.  
"Woah... Hey bird, is the strength included in the price, or do I have to pay extra?"  
  
"Nobody likes a wise guy, Steven. But you will notice that you have several new powers." the crow caws.  
  
"Cool," Crash whispers to himself, pulling open the closet door and retreiving four items: a pair of baggy, black jeans, a sleevless, balck leather trench coat, a pair of black leather boots, and two black fingerless gloves.  
Crash pulls off the black blazer and white dress shirt, revealing buffed up, tattoo sleeved arms. Crash is written in old english letters across his abs.  
He exchanges the old dress pants for the black denim. The crow sits quietly as Crash laces up his boots and puts on the coat and gloves.  
  
"I'm ready," Crash says as he adjusts the collar on the unbuttoned, single breasted trench coat.  
  
"Not quite yet," the crows says. Crash can plainly see the makeup box that the bird is pecking through. It manages to push two items onto the hardwood floor: plain white halloween makeup and black lipstick.  
  
"You want me to wear makeup? You must be out of your fuckin' skull." Crash tells the black bird.  
  
"Look into my eyes, Steven. You will see what you must do."  
  
Crash stares down into the black void of the bird's pupils, and sees something. No, not something. Someone. A man with a white face and black lines protruding from the eyes and mouth, forming a wicked smile.  
  
"Fine," Crash says, scooping up the cosmetics with one hand, "I'll go put it on, you stupid gutter bird."  
  
"Watch it."  
  
The streets are cold and dark, but Crash doesn't seem to mind. From the shadows Crash can see a man peddling coke to some half dead addict.   
  
"That," the crow says to Crash, "Is your man. His name is Robbie, He will tell you where to locate the ones who did this to you."  
  
"I'm gonna go have a chat with our little friend," Crash says, stepping from the shadows and stalks across the street.  
  
"Hello Robbie," Crash says, stepping onto the sidewalk.  
  
"Hey man, you lookin' to buy tonight?" Robbie croaks in a disgusting, nasal voice.  
  
"No, but I would just love if you could give me some.... information"  
  
"Whaddaya need to know?"  
  
As fast as lighting, Crash pushes Robbie into the alley behind them. "You are going to tell me what I need to know or else I will slit you throat from ear to ear. You got it?" Crash asks  
  
"Yeah man, I got it," Robbie replies, "Just don't hurt me."  
  
"Oops! We wouldn't want you using these, now would we," Crash asks, pulling combat knife and 9mm handgun from Robbie's pants and puts them into his coat pocket. "Now tell me where I can find Sandman and his three stooges."  
  
"They hangout at the Twilight Eye downtown. Creeper lives in the motel on Chester Street," Robbie tells him.  
  
"Thank you," Crash says, shoving Robbies head into the brick wall, knocking him unconcious, "thank you very much."  
  
  
"Theres the motel, Steven."  
  
"I'm not blind, squab," Crash barks, standing in front of an old, run down Sleepy Days motel. "Lets do this."  
  
Quickly, Crash jumps at the fire escape stairs and runs to the top floor. He looks into the first window on his right and immediatly has a flashback.  
  
  
A man with a shiny bald head tightening a hangman's noose around his neck  
  
"String him up," a voice from behind calls.  
  
The bald man is now hooking the rope to the chandalier-  
  
  
The flash ends and Crash is cringing in pain.   
  
  
Inside the motel room a bald man who calls himself Creeper is rolling a joint and watching an old western movie  
  
"Where'd I put my lighter," he asks himself.  
  
"You left it on the counter, Creeper"  
  
Creeper leaps out of his chair and grabs a shotgun from off the television set and aims it the man standing next to the kitchen counter  
  
"Who the fuck are you?"  
  
"Who the fuck am I," the man repeats, "well, that is the question now isn't it? One year ago you, two men, and a woman broke into a loft. That night you murdered two people in love."  
  
"What? Who the hell..... No, it can't be you," Creeper screams, "we hanged you, man! Your dead!" And with that, Creeper pulls the trigger of the heavy Remington and blows a hole in the intruder's stomach the size of a softball.   
  
"Ow," the man says as the hole closes itself up, knitting flesh and sinew back together.  
  
"Oh my god," Creeper mutters, reloading the shotgun. But before he can aim the man in the sleevless trench coat grabs the gun from his hands and aims it at his head  
  
"Tell me the names of your three friends or you die, right now, in a cheap motel."  
  
"Yeah, theres Puppet, Misery, and Sandman," Creeper says.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Okay, so just let me go, man," Creeper pleads.  
  
" 'So let is be written, so let it be done. I'm sent here by the Chosen One. So let it be written, so let it be done. To kill the first born pharoh son. I'm creeping death.' "  
  
BAM!  
  
  
Crash reloads the smoking gun and places it into his coat. He moves his finger along a mass of blood and grey matter on the wall, forming a crude picture of a crow, takes one last glance at the bloody stump that once held Creeper's head, and jumps out the window.  
  
  
On the street, Crash walks up to the old twin doors of the Twilight Eye strip club.  
  
"Hey, Shit head, you've got to pay to get in here," a huge bouncer says. But Crash walks right past him. "I said the show ain't free," he yells, grabbing Crash by the arm.  
  
Crash throws his arm away and grabs him tightly by the neck. "I am looking for three people. Sandman, Puppet, and Misery."  
  
"Yeah," the bouncer says, struggling to breath, "Puppet is in there now. The first booth on the left."  
  
"Thank you," Crash says, releasing the choke hold on the man and walking through the door.  
  
The loud techno music and the smell of beer and buffalo wings hit Crash instantly. At the left Crash sees a black man with a mohawk surrounded by a cloud of smoke.  
  
Flashback.  
  
  
A man with a mohawk holding down Kyra.  
  
"Hold still, baby."  
  
  
The memory ends and Crash shakes off the pain and sits beside Puppet.  
  
"What the hell are you doing, man? Do I know you?"  
  
"Look closer. Remember," Crash says to the man.  
  
"Get the fuck outta here," Puppet says, edging away from the stranger.  
  
"You move and you die," Crash says, holding Robbie's combat knife to Puppet's throat, "Tell me where I can find Sandman."  
  
"Uhh, me an' Creeper was gonna meet him tonight at the old bridge," Puppet confesses to Crash.  
  
"Thank you," Crash says, " 'Master of puppets I'm pulling your strings. Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams. Blinded by me, you can't see a thing. Just call my name 'cause I'll hear you scream. Master.' " And Crash drags the blade along Puppet's neck, severing tendons and veins.  
  
As Puppet lies there, dying, Crash knives a symbol of a crow into the table. "I hope it was worth it, Puppet," Crash says, unloading a 9mm slug into the back of Puppet's cranium, barely audible over the loud music, and leaves the club.  
  
Outside, Crash can hear the horrified screams of cocktail waitresses and approaching police cars.  
  
  
"Where the hell are Puppet and Creeper," Sandman yells, "they were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago!"   
  
"Calm down," Misery says in a soothing tone, "This is to important for them to miss."  
  
"We can't hit this bank alone," Sandman says, running his fingers through his long black hair.  
  
"They will be here," Misery says.  
  
"No, I'm afraid they won't be making it tonight," a voice from behind says. Sandman and Misery both unholster their guns and point them at the shadowy figure.  
  
"Who the hell are you," Sandman yells at the man holding a looped rope in his hand.  
  
"I am Crash. And I have risen from the depths of hell to make sure that you two join me for the trip back," the man says.  
  
"We ain't goin' nowhere, Shit head," And the two open fire on Crash. But the holes seal themselves just as quickly as they are being made. The clips go dry and Crash is still coming, and pulling a shotgun from his trench coat. Aiming the gun, the man smiles wickedly. He bashes Sandman in the face with the back of his fist and blows a hole in Misery's abdomen.  
  
"Listen to me little girl," Crash barks, grabbing her long hair and holding her up. " 'You still stood there screaming. No one caring about these words you tell. My friend before your voice is gone. One man's fun is another's hell. These times are sent to try men's souls. But something's wrong with all you see. You. You'll take it on all yourself. Remember, misery loves company.' " And Crash snaps her frail neck like a toothpick..  
  
"As for you," Crash says, grabbing the fallen Sandman with the shattered septum, "you could have stopped it all with one word, ONE WORD! So I hope that you burn in the deepest, darkest corner of hell." Crash is now tying the rope into a noose, twisting it thirteen times. "This is for all the lives you've taken away. All of the dreams you have shattered." Crash is tying one end of the rope to an old handrail, and placing the noose end around Sandman's neck. " 'Say your prayers, little one. Don't forget my son, to include everyone. Tuck you in, warm within. Keep you free from sin, 'Till the Sandman he comes,' " Crash quotes, dragging Sandman to the ledge of the bridge, " 'Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight. Exit light. Enter night. Take my hand. We're of to Never Never Land.' " One hard push and Sandman's wasted life comes to and abrupt end.  
  
  
Crash is walking toward the county cemetary with the black bird on his shoulder.  
  
"Crash and burn," the crow says, looking down at Crash's open grave.  
  
"Crash and burn," Steven echoes, "crash and burn."  
  
THE END  



End file.
